Friday, July 3, 2015

Never Trust A Piggy!

My children are my cheerleaders today.  They wanted to spread this message far and wide, until it rang through every living room, bedroom, and Minecraft Lego purchase on earth.  It all began with my son's birthday.  Dear, wonderful friends granted him more money for his big day and baptism than some kids inherit in their entire childhoods from age seven to nine combined (give or take a little).  He immediately did the eight year old thing and decided to spend a goodly amount on the most entertaining item he could find at Toys R Us - a Minecraft Lego set, including a sheep, a cow and...the piggy! 
 
That piggy, I tell you!  My son and daughter thought he was just a nice little lump of loveable plastic.  They were wrong.  When Joshua invited his mother to join in the game that piggy took on a whole new personality.  He had a dark side, that piggy.  Every time the rest of the farm animals, monsters and owners fell asleep, that pig would sneakily glace from side to side and then creep out of his pen.  He hummed "Rock a Bye Baby" to the other inmates whilst changing their position, hanging them out of trees, and placing condemning evidence that the sheep and cow had been completely to blame.  He uprooted the toy crops and ate most of them before returning serenely to his own pen, closing the doors, and feigning innocence.  Often he would awaken the others by shrieking that someone had stolen all his food!  His owners would come running, scolding the other animals on the way, and thoroughly chastise the monsters for having created such havoc on their peaceful little farm.  Kindhearted masters that they were, they gave the piggy extra treats for having endured such abuse and often asked the other animals why they couldn't be more like said walking stack of plastic bacon.  Indeed, the piggy was pronounced to  be the only one on the farm the owners could trust at all.
 
My children keep asking me to play Legos with them.  I don't know why.  All my logic fails to comprehend why both my children suddenly erupt in uproarious laughter only minutes after I sit down cross legged on cracker crumb strewn carpet.  Generally speaking, I have not found myself particularly talented at playing with children's toys for the last few years, but after all, they are only young once and mischievous pork chops often prove much more eternally important than last night's the dishes in the sink. 
 

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